


Crème Anglaise

by fucker



Category: Chitty Chitty Bang Bang - All Media Types, Trouble in the Heights (2011)
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:40:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29355831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fucker/pseuds/fucker
Summary: Nevada has a small surprise for Caractacus.
Relationships: Caractacus Potts/Nevada Ramirez
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19
Collections: Valentine's Day 2021 exchange





	Crème Anglaise

**Author's Note:**

> For Dominick 🤠
> 
> This is technically a sequel to [last year's Valentine's day fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22750453/).

"'Vada?"

Caractacus's voice was so soft that Nevada wasn't sure he hadn't imagined his name coming from the bedroom. The door was ajar, but he knocked on the doorframe before gently pushing the door open just in case, not wanting to startle Caractacus. 

The inventor was sitting on the edge of the bed in just his socks and undershirt, hunched over slightly as he fiddled with something in his lap, and he looked up nervously as Nevada entered the room. "Nevada, how do you...?"

He shifted on the bed, turning towards Nevada, who instantly understood the problem. The brand new ring was settled loosely around the base of the inventor's cock, and he'd clearly been struggling to get his balls through the metal loop— both were a painful-looking shade of red, irritated from the extended abuse.

"Jesus, Caractacus." Nevada frowned and crossed to the bed, relieving Caractacus of the ring and cupping his balls in one hand, gently examining both for any lasting damage. "Why didn't you ask sooner?"

"...Embarrassing," Caractacus mumbled.

"You don't have to do this, y'know. 'Specially not if it's just to make me happy."

"I _want_ to," Caractacus assured him. "I— I'm just not sure how to... get it to fit."

"Ain't you an engineer or some shit like that?" Nevada teased, dropping to a crouch between Caractacus's spread knees. With the ring held just above his palm, he slipped one of the inventor's balls through the ring, then the other, followed by his cock. It took a bit of gentle maneuvering, but Nevada eased it safely to the base of Caractacus's shaft with minimal effort and no resulting discomfort. 

"Um." The inventor sheepishly rubbed at one cheek with the back of his hand. "I suppose that makes more sense, thank you."

"You nervous or somethin'?" Nevada nudged at Caractacus's cock, now situated within the titanium band. It would normally take little more than skin to skin contact to get him showing interest— often even less than that— but the inventor had remained uncharacteristically soft through the entire process.

"I don't know." Caractacus shrugged, looking down at himself. He gave the ring an experimental quarter-twist, relieved to find that it still had plenty of room to move without digging into his skin. "What if it hurts?"

"Don't worry, you won't last long enough for that." Nevada gave him an encouraging pat on the thigh, then pushed himself to his feet. "Plus, if you do, we'll just go to the hospital so they can saw it off."

" _Nevada, that isn't funny!_ "

Nevada grinned at the look of distress on Caractacus's face. He kissed him, the inventor's breaths coming shorter and faster as Nevada's tongue slipped between his lips and fingertips trailed lightly up the inside of his thigh. Nevada wrapped one hand around him, Caractacus twitching lightly in his palm, and gave him a few easy tugs, then pulled away entirely to a needy, disappointed whine. 

"You stay here and work on that for me, I'll be right back." Nevada disappeared in the direction of the living room before Caractacus could protest, then poked his head back around the doorframe to add: "oh, and if you change your mind, it's gotta come off before you get hard."

That last part was slightly worrying. Caractacus pulled gently at the ring, not too stressed about it coming off now that he knew how to put it back on. It had fully warmed to his skin, and there were no bumps or ridges along the machined metal, unlike some of the ones Nevada owned. It didn't feel like much of anything at all when he left it alone; just a barely noticeable weight pulling him ever so slightly towards the floor.

Even that disappeared when he lay back on the bed. Caractacus didn't feel particularly nervous, but it was easier to clear his mind a bit with Nevada out of the room. He let out a slow breath and closed his eyes, easily conjuring up the image of a mostly-naked Nevada to encourage him as his fingers traced the ring again. 

He wrapped a hand around himself just above the metal and started slow, with loose, shallow strokes just to get his blood flowing. He was still riding a slight high after the semi-public display at dinner, and he knew Nevada was too— he'd been all over Caractacus in the car, and the brief elevator ride had ended with both of his hands down the inventor's pants, but he'd held off until they stumbled across the doorstep.

He tightened his fist, adjusting his grip slightly to account for the unfamiliar ring. It was acting as a sort of counterweight to each upstroke, and he lengthened his strokes to compensate; each finished off with a quick, practiced twist of his wrist that brought him to full potential in what couldn't have been more than ninety seconds. 

He felt fuller than usual in his palm, somehow, but it took him a moment to place the difference. He wasn't necessarily _bigger_ , but he was definitely harder, with less give under his fingers as he continued to jerk his cock. He placed one foot flat on the bed and thrust up into his fist with a soft moan, simulating Nevada's favored grip in a vain attempt to determine whether or not the other man would notice.

"'S more like it."

Caractacus gave himself another slow stroke before he opened his eyes. He may have had hang-ups about pleasuring himself in front of Nevada— in front of _anyone_ , really— before he'd moved in, but the other man's lack of modesty was contagious. Nevada would shower with the door open, shit with the door open, jerk off in bed next to Caractacus if he felt like it, even knowing that the inventor was awake, and his complete and utter lack of shame had, for better or for worse, rubbed off on him.

Caractacus turned his head to see Nevada in the doorway, both hands held behind himself in a highly suspicious manner. Suddenly wary, he pushed himself up on one elbow and narrowed his eyes. "What's behind your back?"

"Nothin'. Keep going."

Nevada approached the bed and set whatever he was holding at the foot, out of Caractacus's line of sight, before straightening to strip out of his shirt and jeans. Caractacus watched appreciatively, still idly stroking his cock as Nevada kicked his clothes aside and turned back to the bed. 

"I know how much you like Valentine's day, so..." Nevada bent to retrieve the item he'd placed on the floor— a can of whipped cream. "Thought maybe we could have a little fun."

Unimpressed, Caractacus rolled his eyes. "I'm nearly fifty years old, Nevada, I am _not_ doing nitrous with you."

"Call 'em whippits over here." Nevada popped the cap off of the silver can and tossed it aside. "And who said you were invited to, anyway?" He closed his lips around the nozzle, tilted the can, and inhaled, smirking at the look of mild annoyance on Caractacus's face. "Don't worry, I have something for you, too."

He picked up a second item and tossed it at Caractacus, who rolled out of the way before it hit him. It was a small bottle of chocolate syrup. A ridiculous gesture on Nevada's part, but one that quickly brought Caractacus attention to the fact that this was going in a completely different direction than he'd presumed. Surprised, he looked up at Nevada.

"Who says I ain't a romantic, huh?"

Nevada crawled up the bed to straddle Caractacus's legs, bracing himself on one arm to upend the can over his chest. He dotted the inventor's nipples with two small, perfect swirls of whipped cream, admiring his work for a moment before bending to lick it from his chest.

Caractacus spread his arms out to the side and wriggled happily, letting Nevada effortlessly bring his nipples to two hard, sensitive peaks in a matter of seconds. While the cold cream on his skin made him shiver slightly, Nevada's warm tongue eased the tightness from his chest before goosebumps had the chance to appear. Nevada didn't stop once he'd licked him clean; continuing to drag his tongue over and across his nipples in broad, firm strokes until the inventor was pink in the cheeks and slightly breathless.

Caractacus sighed softly, raising a hand to run his fingers through Nevada's hair. He didn't pull, but the other man took the hint nonetheless, closing his lips around one tender nipple and sucking gently. He moved to the other side, dropping a series of light, unhurried kisses across the inventor's chest in the process, and Caractacus arched his back with a pleased hum that turned into a full-blown moan as Nevada drew his other nipple into his mouth, running his tongue over heated skin.

Nevada gave him a few last slow, teasing licks before he shifted backwards slightly, giving himself a better angle to carelessly apply a generous helping of whipped cream over the narrow trail of hair below the inventor's navel; a messy, uneven squiggle that ended no more than half an inch above where his cock lay resting on his lower belly.

Stuck indoors with nowhere to go and nobody to see, Nevada's beard had grown long enough that it was ticklish rather than rough against Caractacus's skin, and the inventor suppressed a giggle, trying not to squirm too much as the other man bent to lick at his stomach. It was difficult to remain still as Nevada neared his erection, and Caractacus curled both hands into the sheets, thighs tight and breaths coming harder now that he was fully aroused. 

Nevada dragged the very tip of his tongue up Caractacus's stomach alongside his hard cock— on the right, then the left, then right again— letting out a warm breath over his skin with the last slow, teasing lick. Caractacus tipped his head back with a low groan, the tendons in his neck tight as the warm pressure in his groin spiked, then slowly subsided. 

" _¿Se siente bien?_ " Nevada asked. 

"Mmm." Caractacus looked down at himself and wiggled his hips. "You can't tell?"

"Maybe I just like hearin' you say it." 

"Your mouth always feels good."

"Yeah? Even when I do this?" Nevada bent to bite gently at Caractacus's chest, leaving a small crescent of red marks on the outer curve of one pectoral.

Caractacus shivered with pleasure, his hands tightening in the sheets again. " _Especially_ when you do that."

"Hmm." 

Nevada traced the half-circle of imprints with his tongue, then moved to the other side of Caractacus's chest, drawing another soft noise from the inventor's lips as he sank his teeth into his skin again. The marks he left were superficial, quickly fading to a delicate pink that was almost lost against Caractacus's flushed skin, and he kissed each one in turn before they disappeared completely.

He straightened back up, and Caractacus— distracted by the tight line of his tricep as he tipped the can upside-down again— didn't fully realize Nevada's intentions until cool, pressurized air rushed across the head of his cock. More whipped cream spurted from the can and he let out a surprised squeak, twitching against his stomach. 

Eyes wide, he watched Nevada drag a finger through the stiff peak and bring it to his lips, licking it clean with an unnecessarily suggestive swipe of his tongue. Nevada grinned at the look of open, unabashed desire on Caractacus's face, then bowed his head again to lick the remainder directly from the inventor's cock.

" _Oh!_ " Caractacus gasped. He involuntarily bucked against Nevada's face, leaving a streak of white in his beard. "I didn't mean— 'Vada, you don't have to—"

"I know. Close your eyes."

Caractacus closed his eyes. 

"Keep 'em shut."

It was a demand rather than a request, but one that Caractacus was happy to oblige. He tensed as Nevada topped his cock with whipped cream again; this time with a broad stripe down the length of his shaft accompanied by another long hiss of air.

The whipped cream warmed quickly and began to melt, but Nevada's attention was elsewhere— his mouth found the ring first, kissing the warm metal where it wrapped around Caractacus's shaft, and the inventor moaned as he realized that it was a far tighter fit than it had been a few moments ago.

" _Looks good on you_ ," Nevada murmured, lips brushing Caractacus's skin as he spoke.

Caractacus felt himself flush a bit at the praise. "You think?" he asked shyly.

Nevada hummed in response, licking gently at a stray rivulet of melted cream that had begun to run down towards Caractacus's balls. He took his sweet time cleaning the inventor up, carefully catching each slow drip with his tongue as the cream continued to melt down the sides of his cock. 

By now accustomed to being edged for extended periods of time, Caractacus could normally withstand quite a bit of teasing before he cracked, but that teasing had never been in this specific form before. His body was reacting on its own and he was quickly losing what little control he had, twitching and squirming as Nevada's mouth became more insistent, licking at him with firmer, broader strokes.

Nevada cleared the last bit of whipped cream from the top of his shaft with one final long, slow stroke of his tongue, and Caractacus groaned and cursed, his hands two tight fists at his sides. He could feel himself trembling, his muscles protesting the strain of being held so tight, and he was grateful that Nevada pulled away for a moment to let him collect himself. He focused his attention on relaxing, deepening each inhale and slowing each exhale until the tension began to ease from his shoulders and thighs. 

A warm breath over the head of his cock was the only warning that Caractacus got before Nevada's lips closed around him, instantly undoing the last few moments of careful, measured breathing. He squeezed his eyes tighter, his head spinning with arousal as he fought the urge to thrust deeper into the other man's mouth. 

Nevada bobbed his head shallowly, letting Caractacus slip along the flat of his tongue. His hands were far more coordinated than his mouth; tighter, faster, more dexterous, and just as slick when he had a palm full of lube, but the heat was impossible to replicate. Caractacus let out a high, breathy moan and some of the pressure in his belly with it, instinctively reaching for Nevada but stopping himself halfway, gripping his own thigh to ground himself instead.

He could feel the other man's hesitance; his hands shifting indecisively in the sheets at Caractacus's sides, the tightness of his jaw, his tongue set against the head of the inventor's cock, serving as a gentle but firm barrier to prevent him from pushing too deep. He wanted nothing more than to run a reassuring hand over Nevada's cheek, but he knew that it wouldn't be a particularly welcome gesture. After, yes, but not at this moment in time. 

Instead, he drew in a shaky breath and concentrated on putting the unspeakable amounts of love and trust and pleasure and overwhelming need that he was feeling into a single hoarse syllable: " _Fuck_."

He couldn't see Nevada's smile, but he could feel it in the angle of his jaw. A smile that said that some small part of him was enjoying making the inventor fall apart, even if he was in such an intimately vulnerable position while doing it. Caractacus swallowed a soft _I love you_ before it could escape, not wanting to make him uncomfortable by tying it to the situation at hand. 

A few drops of precome had made it past the ring, and he shuddered as he felt them drip onto Nevada's tongue. He could hear his own heartbeat; feel it pounding in his throat and his belly and between Nevada's lips, and he wondered if Nevada could feel it too, although he certainly wasn't letting on if he could.

Teeth skimmed his staggeringly sensitive skin and Caractacus hissed in surprise, struggling to keep his eyes shut as he jerked away from the rough, uncomfortable stimulation.

Nevada instantly pulled back. "Sorry, sorry. Forgot you don't like that."

"It's okay," Caractacus breathed, running a finger along the underside of his crown where Nevada's teeth had caught him. The pain was already gone, and he couldn't feel any lasting damage. "I'm just not used to it."

Nevada hummed in affirmation. He pulled the inventor back into his mouth, diligently shielding his teeth this time. As much as Caractacus enjoyed the sight of Nevada's lips wrapped around his cock, he knew that the other man preferred the small amount of privacy afforded him when Caractacus's eyes were closed, or, better yet, when he was blindfolded. He draped an arm over his eyes, resisting the temptation to peek.

His self-restraint didn't go unnoticed, and while Nevada didn't voice his appreciation, he did allow Caractacus another inch. Caractacus groaned and shifted, suddenly able to feel the edge of Nevada's hard palate against the head of his cock. More precome leaked from his slit, and he cursed blindly at the ceiling as he felt Nevada swallow it.

Nevada's strokes remained slow, but his lips steadily tightened around Caractacus's cock with each one, his tongue working the underside until the inventor's legs began to shift restlessly, his fingers kneading at the comforter in a regular rhythm as he continued to refuse his body's need to thrust into Nevada's throat. 

Nevada's cock brushed his calf once, leaving a slick streak behind, then again, and Caractacus couldn't help himself. He raised his head from the pillow and opened his eyes. "Are you...?"

Nevada looked up to find him staring and scowled defensively, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. "So what if I am, huh?"

"So nothing." Caractacus let his head fall back, watching Nevada through his lashes with a slight smile on his lips. "I'm just glad that you don't find my penis entirely loathsome."

"Hmm." Nevada kissed him slow and dirty, his tongue circling Caractacus's slit for a long moment until he finally pulled away again. "Maybe it ain't my favorite thing to do, but that's a _me_ thing, not a you thing. Shouldn't make you suffer for it."

Between the frequent prostate orgasms, hand jobs and toys, both internal and external, Caractacus's needs were covered not just adequately, but exhaustively. More often than not he found himself lacking the energy to simply drag himself to the bathroom to clean up after Nevada was done with him. "Nevada, I'm hardly suff—"

Caractacus's protest was cut short as Nevada ducked his head again, this time letting him slide to the back of his throat. He tightened his lips, pressed Caractacus's cock into the roof of his mouth, and hollowed his cheeks, sucking hard before he pulled away again. 

Despite all his efforts, Caractacus's hips finally left the bed in a shamefully desperate attempt to follow the heat of Nevada's mouth. " _Jesus_ —" he gasped, throbbing with need as he breathlessly collapsed back into the blankets. "Fucking hell, Nevada, keep that up and I'm gonna come."

"You can, uh..." Nevada licked his lips, looking anywhere but at Caractacus. "You can finish on my face if you want."

"Mmm." Caractacus reached down to wrap a loose fist around himself, stroking slowly enough to keep himself under control, but not so slowly that the tight, heavy urge to come dissipated entirely. "I appreciate the offer, but that's never been my thing."

"You sure? I might never offer again, y'know."

"I think I can live with that."

Nevada shrugged. " _Como quiera_."

He bent to pull Caractacus back into his mouth, but the inventor slipped a hand under his chin to stop him, pulling his head back up so he could meet his gaze. His beard was still streaked with white, and Caractacus had to hide a smile. 

"Come up here," he urged, gently pulling Nevada towards him. 

"What, had enough?"

"More than." Caractacus patted his chest with his free hand. "It's your turn."

Nevada looked a bit unsure, but he crawled up the bed and swung a leg over Caractacus's chest all the same, letting his erection bob temptingly in the air just above the inventor's lips. He raised one eyebrow, waiting for further instruction. 

Caractacus held the bottle of chocolate sauce out. "Would you mind?"

"Not at all," Nevada grinned. 

He drizzled a generous amount down the length of his shaft, enough to almost completely cover himself, although not _nearly_ enough to satisfy Caractacus's sweet tooth. He topped the chocolate off with a towering peak of whipped cream, licked the nozzle clean, and shoved both bottles aside, looking down at Caractacus expectantly.

"Shoulda gotten some fuckin' cherries," he mused, watching with amusement as the inventor struggled to open his mouth wide enough to fit his lips around the mound of whipped cream. 

Caractacus quickly gave up, accepting the fact that there was no dignified way around it. He caught the tip of Nevada's cock on his tongue, closed his eyes, and leaned forward, trying not to inhale as he pushed his face through the sugary mess until his forehead met Nevada's stomach. He cautiously opened one eye to look up at Nevada, then the other, relieved to find that both were mostly free of cream. 

Nevada swiped a thumb along Caractacus's upper lip, clearing the mess from under his nose. " _¿'Stás listo?_ "

His mouth somewhat preoccupied, Caractacus slowly ran his tongue around Nevada's crown; as much of an answer as he could give at the moment. 

Nevada had no trouble interpreting it. He slid a hand into Caractacus's hair, holding him still as he eased to the back of his throat and set a fast, rough rhythm. He thrust into Caractacus's mouth with remarkable precision, hitting his limit with each roll of his hips but not so hard as to cause him any discomfort.

Caractacus hummed in approval, gripping the solid thighs bracketing his chest as Nevada continued to fuck his mouth. He was drooling, saliva and chocolate syrup running down both sides of his face, but he barely noticed; his attention captured by the muscles flexing under his fingers in time with smooth movement of Nevada's hips.

Nevada finally paused for long enough to let the inventor get a word in edgewise, and Caractacus met his eyes with an innocent smile. "You can finish on my face if you want."

"Come wherever the fuck I feel like," Nevada growled, unamused by the lighthearted dig.

He gripped himself tight with one hand and dropped forward onto the other, shoving his cock back into Caractacus's mouth. A hard thrust sent him into the inventor's throat without warning, and Caractacus struggled to keep his airway open, tearing up as he desperately tried to refrain from choking. 

Nevada got a handful of rough thrusts in before Caractacus finally gagged, forcing his cock out of his throat. He coughed up a bit of syrup, weakly wiping his eyes with the back of his hand while he caught his breath. 

" _Open_ ," Nevada demanded.

Caractacus, still wheezing slightly, closed his eyes, parted his lips and steeled himself for another round. The head of Nevada's cock slipped back into his mouth, followed by... nothing. 

He cracked one eye to find Nevada's hand in his face, the veins standing out in sharp relief as he closed a fist around his own cock. Four hard jerks was all it took to finish himself off, his neck and shoulders tightening as he shot his load into the inventor's mouth. 

Caractacus moaned at the familiar taste, swallowing quickly before he could choke again. Nevada was still pulsing steadily between his lips, and Caractacus had to swallow twice more before he finally licked the last drops from Nevada's slit. Nevada pulled away and the inventor coughed, wiping at his chin with the least sweaty part of his forearm, but all he managed to do was smear the sticky mess around. He sighed.

Nevada rolled off of him and onto his side, resting his cheek on one fist as he looked Caractacus over appraisingly. "Valentine's day special, Potts," he finally said. "Don't be expecting that all the time, _¿entiendes?_ "

"Not even for my birthday?"

"You know you can have anything in the world for your birthday, and you wanna waste that on a mediocre blowjob?"

"Well," Caractacus let his gaze trail down Nevada's ribs and over his hip before coming to rest on his ass. "Unless..."

"Nope. Uh-uh." Nevada shook his head. "We've been over this, _Chiflado, sólo salida_."

"I don't want to _fuck_ you, 'Vada."

"The hell you wanna do with my ass, then?"

Caractacus held up the bottle of chocolate sauce with a slightly embarrassed but hopeful look on his face.

"Huh." Nevada let his gaze linger on Caractacus's lips just long enough to make him blush, self-conscious about his desires as always. "That something you like to do?"

"I don't know," Caractacus admitted. It was no secret that he enjoyed giving head, and he'd certainly been rimmed before, but he had yet to be on the other end of that particular act.

"You don't know?"

"I— I saw a video once, and it looked..." _It looked like the man being eaten out was on the verge of sobbing with pleasure_ , Caractacus thought but didn't say. "Well, I think I'd like to try."

"Hmm."

"You're awfully resistant to experiencing pleasure for such a hedonist, you know."

"Yeah, yeah." Nevada rolled onto his back and draped a lazy arm across Caractacus's stomach, wrapping a hand around the inventor's still-hard cock. "Why don't you come for me while I think about it."

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to [message](https://fuckerao3.tumblr.com/ask) or [DM](https://www.tumblr.com/message/fuckerao3) me with questions, suggestions, or requests (no promises), or if you'd like to beta!


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